The Lipstick Lounge’s latest commercials boast, “Whatever you think it is, it’s more.” Though Lounge owners Ronda, Jonda and Christa may be charged with extreme use of camp, infectious ebullience and pouring of potent cocktails, they’ll never be found guilty of false advertising.
Lipstick’s popular “Kiss Up to the Mic” party runs Tuesday through Thursday from 9 p.m. 'til... “the queers come home,” one regular recently joked. The atmosphere at Lipstick is utterly welcoming, no matter whom you like to get it on with. The members of my girl group each knew several people, and we quickly became a party of many. We’ve all been to cumbersome karaoke nights where bitter I-shoulda-been-a-star types struggle through painful '80s ballads. Thursday night was a smart mix of wry humor and serious talent. Special props to the cutie who belted out the fierce rendition of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” Ya done Shady proud, son.
People kept asking if I would sing. Surrounded by crooners like Rhett Murdaugh, Tommy Keenum, Scott Douglas and Steff Mahan, I suddenly caught stage-fright. “I can’t,” I lied, waving my pad of paper, “I’m working.” Nobody bought it. Instead, the crafty Sara Beck slyly signed me up for “No Sleep Till Brooklyn.” At 11 p.m., the party was just heating up. Fred Grgich rolled in with a group of gal pals. “If Fred sings, I’ll sing,” I thought. No such luck. So, I pulled a horrible French exit right before my name was called. My apologies to Debbie the hostess. I’ll definitely be back, and I promise to sing.
Friday night, I went down to the Municipal Auditorium to see Kid Rock. The hell-raisin’, Coors-drinkin’, West-Coast-chopper-shirted crowd was the same as you’d find at Kid Rock shows in Florida, Louisville and even Philly. I had the pleasure of raising “devil fingers” with Tim McGraw’s drummer, Billy Mason, and met kids from New York, Kentucky and Alabama who follow Rock like the previous generation did the Dead.
I’m not telling you to go home and listen to Kid Rock, but I will say that I was seriously impressed with the raucous adrenaline of the two-and-a half-hour live show. There was cocky posturing and big pyrotechnics as expected, but Rock went beyond the call of duty to “Dixiefy” his act. He interspersed his repertoire with samples of classic tunes like Skynyrd’s “Free Bird,” paid homage to South Carolinian James Brown and used the Confederate flag as a temporary backdrop. Even his Go Go girls wore matching Rebel flag bikinis. When he sang “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” the crowd at Municipal went wild. He’s been in town to produce and was spotted at the clubs on Broadway, at Bar Twenty3 and at 3rd and Lindsley. Die-hard fan Bambi Watt says that he even made an offer on some property in the Brentwood/Franklin area, but the neighbors pitched a fit. Too bad. Nashville hearts you, Kid Rock.
Speaking of love and hearts, this week is going to be great. Crave something more heartfelt than Hallmark? Then head to Art & Invention Gallery in East Nashville Thursday and handcraft a one-of-a-kind love note. Friday, get to Rumours Gallery on 12th Street to ogle fresh art and party with a sophisticated but funky flock. V-day, you could try your luck at the reopening of Pub of Love and swing to a jazz trio in the adjacent ball room or you can kick up your boots at Katy K’s fabulous Girlesque show at Mercy Lounge, featuring Brooklyn’s Pontani Sisters, Catherine D’Lish from Cali, Panty Raid and more. And Super Furry Animals will be at Exit/In Sunday. However you like it, I hope you get it.
By Amy Waddell
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